


sir

by heatdeath (keptein)



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Book 1: His Majesty's Dragon, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15862956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/heatdeath
Summary: John was no stranger to working with attractive men, and even if Laurence did have an unusual handsomeness to him, his manner wholly ruined it. John would like nothing more than to give him a good shaking and see Temeraire in better, more worthy hands. He certainly didn’t want anything to do with the man, even if his treacherous mind was of a different opinion. He only wanted to make Laurence eat his words, take back that damnedsirif it was the last thing he did, unravel his frustratingly pervasive sense of propriety and righteousness, as if he knew anything of real honour -





	sir

**Author's Note:**

> remember when laurence and granby don't like each other in book 1, and laurence makes granby call him sir? well, friends... here we are. set during book 1.

It was rare for John to have the quarters to himself. Dunne had gone into town and would spend the night there, which was not in itself unusual, but McNaughton was always in bed when he could excuse it - and sometimes even when he couldn’t, leaving little room for privacy in the shared room. Tonight, however, he’d been called to practice night flying on Vitalis, and would be out until morning, leaving John to enjoy a few hours of solitude.

He shed his coat carelessly, sitting on the edge of his bed and unbuttoning his trousers. He was not going to let such rare an opportunity pass him by, even if everything else at the covert had been upset by the arrival of Temeraire and that damned Navy captain, Laurence. Little, the only man John knew of who shared his own inclinations, was busy with that very same man out on the training grounds under Celeritas’s watchful eye. Britain needed Lily’s formation as soon as possible, and Immortalis could not be spared for the training, much as John would have liked the company. It would just be him tonight, then, but he aimed to make the most of it anyway.

He pressed a palm against his groin, already half-hard in anticipation, and began to tease himself; he meant to enjoy the time he had, not spoil it immediately like a boy. Closing his eyes to fantasise, John imagined Little knocking on the door after all - he’d come in and see John, and maybe gasp, but he would come to kneel between John’s spread legs, palms stroking up his thighs…

Unbidden, the figure in John’s mind changed from Little’s slender, brown-haired figure, instead becoming a man with broad shoulders and sun-bleached hair pulled back into a short queue -

John grunted, shaking his head to clear it. Little, it was _Little,_ Little would pull John’s trousers down and put his lips on the sensitive skin of John’s inner thigh. In the present, he put his hand into his underwear, loosely grasping his cock - he had no oils, but that was no problem, as the rarity of the event meant he was already eager and slick to the touch.

Little would let John put a hand in his hair, guiding his head upwards, and his sea-chapped lips would leave pleasant tingles as they skated across John’s skin, as he looked up at John with stern blue eyes and said, _“call me sir,”_ -

“Fuck!” John groaned, falling back on his bed in dismay. Damn the man! John was no stranger to working with attractive men, and even if Laurence did have an unusual handsomeness to him, his manner wholly ruined it. John would like nothing more than to give him a good shaking and see Temeraire in better, more worthy hands. He certainly didn’t want anything to do with the man, even if his treacherous mind was of a different opinion. He only wanted to make Laurence eat his words, take back that damned _sir_ if it was the last thing he did, unravel his frustratingly pervasive sense of propriety and righteousness, as if he knew anything of _real_ honour -

Without conscious permission, his hand had moved back to his cock, stroking along his shaft as he imagined Laurence in a rumpled uniform, hair mussed and unruly. He’d hate the state, and humiliation would leave a high flush on his cheeks, but John wouldn’t let him straighten himself out. He clearly got off on making people feel like they were beneath him; John wondered if he would find it even more exciting to be on the other end, to be under John’s boot. _“This is highly inappropriate,”_ Laurence would say, or something to that effect, but John would push his knee against his groin and he would feel that Laurence was hard in his breeches, aroused by being brought so low. John would enjoy it, too, putting Laurence in his place, ruining that perfect demeanour until he was red and begging for mercy, and John would show him just how _honourable_ he was, spreading him out on his back and teasing him until Laurence, frustrated, said, _“sir - sir, please,”_ and then John would sink into him, setting a punishing pace. Laurence would try to stay quiet, but John would order him not to be, to let the whole covert hear him as he succumbed to such base pleasures, and it would be a delight to hear him; he’d fuck him until Laurence came without a single touch to his own cock, and then John would pull out and come on the remains of his perfectly pressed coat, which Laurence would still be wearing, and then he would make Laurence leave his quarters like that, in his ruined uniform, and everyone would know what John had made of him, and everyone would’ve heard him beg -

His own orgasm took him by surprise, and he came into his hand with a low moan, hips rocking as he arched, working himself until the stimulation proved too much and he had to pull away. He fell back, panting, and wiped his hand on his trousers, noting distantly that he’d have to wash them privately. Ringing in his head was still Laurence saying _“sir”_ , and he almost thought he’d be able to get another orgasm out of it before he remembered that he would in fact have to face the man again, presumably tomorrow, and while one indulgence was understandable, excessive gratification wouldn’t do John any good. Laurence was insufferable, after all, and he didn’t want to accidentally develop anything even remotely resembling good feelings through his own fantasies when Laurence had done nothing to deserve them.

However… John caught his breath, turning into the sheets. His body was heavy, and he wondered if - next time, perhaps, if he had the room to himself again within the next century - he should imagine Laurence servicing him. Surely it wouldn’t make him warm towards him, a few fantasies had never hurt anyone, and Laurence was so very pretty when he didn’t speak and didn’t act in that very proper way of his. John could gag him, perhaps, and have his way with him like that…

His eyelids drooped shut, pulling him into sleep, and his last conscious thought was one of congratulations, that he’d found a subject of fantasy that he was sure never to get along with, and that he would not ruin a potential friendship by developing some ill-advised fancy; he’d been through that far too many times in his twenty-six years. In that way, Laurence was almost perfect - a delight to unravel in his fantasies, but too much of a pain in real life for John to want to pursue anything with him, not even acquaintanceship if he could help it. Perfect indeed, he thought, and then slumber finally took him.

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE A TEMERAIRE DISCORD which is fun and cool and [you can join it here](https://discord.gg/Hc4CUrh). talk to me about Anything Temeraire Please on twitter @lemonbrute or tumblr (keptein).


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